It's Not the Same You and it Never Really is
by xBlackRabbitx
Summary: It hates me. It wants me. I am always, always prey.' Drabble-y thing inspired by the song 'Labyrinth' by The Cure.


A drabble-y one-shotty doodad. Somewhat morbid. Evil Jareth, I think... Inspired by the lyrics to 'Labyrinth' by The Cure.

So promising myself 'no more fanfiction until the novel is finished' didn't work out so well, so now it's 'every two chapters you complete of the novel equals one one-shot'. Which means less fanfiction for you, but more novel writing for me. In theory, anyway. This is actually a little overdue, as I've had a couple of other things started but nothing really seemed to be working. Then I stumbled upon the song lyrics, and this... _thing _was born.

According to the book I have, in the Language of Flowers peach blossom means 'your captive'.

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Labyrinth. My regular readers will know why, and you should all count that as a blessing.

To my regular readers: You know how much I love reviews. To my non-regular readers: I love reviews to the point of... well, a lot. Can't think of a reasonable example right now. Just send some lovin' my way!

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A child: _Toby._ _A baby. Brother. Lost. Found_. _Safe. Alive._ A baby. Toby? Bleeding, dead, skin mottled green and eyes wide and unseeing. Everywhere, dead children. None my brother. None human.

A man: _Opponent._ _Golden hair, soft voice. Sang of valentine evenings. Defeated. _Eyes like daggers. Pointed teeth, like a predator. Predator. I am prey. Voice a growl, song a bewitchment. Masculine, powerful; he demands and I must give. Black leather, black armour; he is protected and I am not. He wants to consume me, and I must be consumed.

An owl: _Bird gliding on gossamer wings. Soft feathers. Grace. Beauty_. A mouse caught in claws of steel. Beak rips, beak tears. Crimson blood on snowy feathers. Owl's call is a scream in the dark; the axe falls. Eyes show wisdom, wisdom gained of knowledge, and if knowledge is power, than that power is old and dark and dangerous. I am prey.

A tunnel: _False alarms. Stone faces. Stone walls. Escape_. Faces shout. Faces growl. Angry, awful mouths. Eyes that follow with hatred. Languages I don't understand. The walls close in. Trapped. Cannot breath. Twisting, turning, changing. Cannot escape. Never escape.

A monster: _All is not as it seems. Ludo. Friend_. Gnashing teeth and slashing claws. Hot breath. Foul breath. Wants to crush, break, destroy. Fangs like razor-swords. Matted fur. Eyes of animalistic rage. It hates me. It wants me. I am always, always prey.

A forest: _Soft light. Sparkling trees. Beautiful. Calm. Serene_. Dead trees. Bone trees. no life. Bleached trunks, blackened earth. Terrifying. Strips of skin hang from branches. Nowhere to hide. A bonescape of whispers and fear.

A fire: _Strange creatures with orange fur. Burning hands. Singing, dancing. Not entirely harmless, but not to be feared_. His eyes burn. Like stars, like suns, like flames. Like passion and hate and anger and desire. Lust. They burn into me. I am burning with their fire. The world could burn down around us, and his eyes would still burn brightest. It consumes me, this fire. Burning, burning down.

A dance: _Floating. Dream-like. A beautiful dress and a beautiful man. Innocent. A song that speaks of love_. Wild. Carnal. A rhythm too fast for complicated steps. He is sweeping me along, and I must follow in his wake. I am powerless. He leads. I follow. The song speaks of desire, of passion, of sin. I fear this is more than a dance.

A peach: _Juice. Soft fruit. Sweet taste. Takes me to a dream_. Fruit is rotten. Fruit is black. Maggots drop to the floor, fat and juicy. I throw it away. He catches the blossoms. He whispers: Peach blossom- your captive. They wither in his hand. I am his.

A kiss: _In the ballroom. Leaning closer. Spicy scent. Wanting. Asked for, but not taken. Not given_. Forceful. Rough grip. Rough lips. Unwanted. Unasked. Overpowering. Bodies pressed together. Stifling, suffocating. Taste is foreign, forbidden. I have no control. I am his prey, I am always his prey, and he is consuming me. There is no escape.

I have no right words; he has taken them from me.

I cannot run; he holds me too tightly.

I cannot escape; owls can see through the dark, see the mouse even as it tries to hide.

I am no longer a child. He will no longer wait for me.

This is his game, and he has won.


End file.
